Love Takes Hostages
by INSANITY - BRILLIANCE
Summary: "Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? I've seen what it does to people. It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get close to you and mess you up," she paused,"Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out. Then suddenly your life isn't your own anymore. I hate love. Love is cruel." Frary/LolaxOC
1. Prologue

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."

-Neil Gaiman

* * *

**Love Takes Hostages**_**  
Prologue**_

How could everything fall apart so quickly?

It was just last week that everything had been perfect; just seven days ago before everything went to hell.

Sebastian scoffed as he thought about it. '_Just seven days.' _Seven days ago he had been King Henry's favorite son. Seven days ago he had decided to leave court for fear of his mother's plans. '_Seven days ago, just seven days.'_

It was strange how everything had changed so quickly.

Now instead of being the 'bastard' he was thrown in a cell like a common criminal awaiting his punishment. Sebastian was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. It was strange for someone to be visiting him, unless it was his father. That thought alone made him nervous.

It wasn't like he feared his father, well he did, but not for reasons that he is being accused of. It was all his mother's fault. Because of her hunger for power she tried to legitimize him and take the crown from his brother Francis. He never wanted that crown. He never wanted to be king.

The bolt to the thick wooden door slid open before it creaked open revealing the person who had come to visit him.

"Francis—"

Sebastian had barely been able to get the name out before his brother lunged at him. His head snapped back from the impact of Francis's fist. "WHY DID YOU STEAL MARY?" Francis shouted throwing him to the ground. The anger in his voice was irreplaceable.

"I was trying to help her," he gasped as Francis aimed a kick to his ribs.

Francis wasn't having any of his explanations, "You took advantage of her fears and this family's trust!" Another blow to Sebastian's face splitting his lip and causing the crimson blood to ooze down his chin. "HOW LONG HAVE YOU HATED ME?"

Sebastian made no move to defend himself against his brother's anger. If anything he felt that he deserved every blow that was being dealt to him. "I trusted you and you betrayed me," those words stung, but they were in every way justified.

"_FRANCIS!"_

"Why, why would you do this?"

"I was trying to save your life," Sebastian breathed.

"_FRANCIS STOP!"_

Sebastian was vaguely aware of Mary's voice screaming at the two of them.

"Francis!" Mary screamed pulling the blonde prince off his bastard brother. Sebastian sunk to his knees placing the palms of his hands on the cool stone floor breathing out ragged breaths. "Stop this. This isn't Bash's fault. He only knew about the prophecy," Mary explained fervently, pleading for Francis to believe her, "The only thing we've done is try to save you."

Francis looked at her confused. "What?"

"It was I who proposed marrying him. I proposed that he be legitimized—"

"You proposed _what_?" This time the interruption was from Sebastian. He was looking at her with disbelief and a tinge of betrayal. Mary looked down at him with remorse, guilt filling those chocolate brown irises of hers.

Francis was beside himself. This revelation showed him just how serious Mary's belief in this superstitious nonsense had become. He was angry, he was hurt. Mary's actions weren't only breaking his heart, but they were also putting his family's future in jeopardy. "You are setting the course of nations, asking the pope to say that this is God's will; taking my family's inheritance from _me_, _my mother_, _my brothers_," Mary visibly flinched at each word that came out of Francis's mouth, "And I'm supposed to accept this? You are throwing away everything we had for superstition. Nostradamus knows nothing!"

Tears began to fill Mary's eyes and Francis sighed taking a softer tone. "You know that I love you," he breathed, "But if you think that in your mind you are saving me means that I will forgive you for this you are gravely mistaken."

_"I'm so sorry," _Mary breathed, so softly that neither Francis nor Sebastian had heard her. She watched as the love of her life turned his back on her walking away. Her heart broke with each step that he took from her, knowing the she could just run after him and all would be well, however the knowledge of that doing so will only get him killed. It was tearing her apart.

Mary snapped out of her reverie at the sound of Sebastian's pained gasps. Quickly she turned around helping him to sit up. "Are you okay?" She asked concerned. He had sustained several injuries from Francis's anger and that gravely worried her. Bruises were beginning to form on his face and the blood that oozed from the opening in his spilt lip.

"When we you planning on telling me, before or after my coronation?" He spat out angrily, the word 'coronation' feeling like acid on his tongue.

"Please don't be angry," Mary pleaded.

Sebastian took a deep breath at the tears pricking in the corners of Mary's eyes. "I never wanted my brother's crown," he told her firmly, "No matter my mother's plans."

"But will you take it, to save his life?"

"Can I have more than a heartbeat to think about it?" He snapped.

Mary reared back slightly, only slightly, before regaining her composure. "Of course," she told him, "I'll leave you to think it over." She stood up gracefully brushing off some dirt from her skirts and then moving toward the cell door. Just passing through it however, she turned giving Sebastian at remorseful glance, "I really am sorry for how things have turned out Bash. I hope that maybe one day you'll be able to forgive me. Not just for going behind your back and putting you on the throne, but for ruining your relationship with Francis as well." With those parting words said she hastily made her way out of the cell shutting the door behind her leaving Sebastian with much to consider.

* * *

Lola sat in her chambers staring out the window in a daze. Her thoughts were a thousand miles away, worrying for her friend Mary. The young queen's life was so complicated. She could barely imagine what it must be like to be in her place. It must be awful.

Mary couldn't be with the one she loved and she couldn't leave France. Her mother wanted her to marry the next king of France. That didn't give her many options and she had already begun making decisions on what to do. Lola worried about what these decisions would do to her friend.

_'Poor Mary. There has to be something I can do to help.' _Lola tried fervently to think of something, the only plan she had been able to come up with had failed when Mary had come back to court. '_To save Bash,'_ she reminded herself.

Sebastian was in just as much trouble as Mary. He couldn't refuse the marriage unless he wanted to be beheaded for treason. He was forced into this just as much as Mary was.

_'It's hopeless. Every way I turn one of my friends is in danger. I can't save one without letting the other perish. And if neither one are saved then they will both be miserable.' _Lola placed her hand on the glass of the window letting the cool glass seep into her palm. The way Lola was seeing the only thing that could help with situation was divine intervention.

But would God even listen to her pleas?

Lola had been raised as a devote Catholic. She believe there was a God, she believed that he was overall good, yet it always seemed to her that he was too far away. She didn't believe that God would even help in this situation, but there was no harm in asking.

Coming to a decision Lola moved away from the window to her desk. Opening one of the drawers she searched until her hands grasped the familiar string of her Rosemary Beads. Then closing the drawer she moved swiftly to the edge of her bed kneeling down in reverence. She moved the beads in her hand touching her forehead, her shoulders, and then bringing them up to her lips placing a gentle kiss on the beads. "_Please Gracious Heavenly Father. I come to you in humble reverence to beg for guidance in these trying times. Please show us the path in which to take. Give us a sign that what is happening is your will or intervene to change our fates—"_ Lola's prayer was cut off by a sudden pricking sensation her palms.

"Ow," she cried dropping the beads as if they had burned her.

* * *

Francis was pacing back and forth in his chambers, furious. '_How could Mary do this? Howhowhowhow? Is my loving her not enough? She has to personally torment me as well?'_

He paused only for a second in his pacing to look out the windows into the woods. One thing was becoming painfully clear to him. '_If Mary is insistent to go down this path then I can't remain here.'_ He had to leave he decided that. He couldn't stand by and watch as the girl he loved married his brother. He couldn't watch as everything was taken from his family. He couldn't watch as his mother was beheaded as she would most likely be without the protection of her crown.

Everything was so wrong.

Francis stopped abruptly in his pacing. The stop was so abrupt that he almost tripped and fell. There was a sudden pricking in the back of his head; as if someone with sticking a dozen tiny fiery needles at the base of his neck. He fought a cry of shock at the throbbing as he kneeled over grabbing the bed post for support.

_'Why is this happening?'_

* * *

Mary walked quietly down a deserted corridor. The few servants that she passed paid her no mind too consumed with their work to worry about the young Queen. Mary was feeling sick and queasy. There was a prickling in her abdomen, the most sensitive of prickling's. It made bile want to rise to her throat.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Nothing could ever compare to this. This prickling was upsetting, but it didn't necessarily hurt. Yes, it did feel like a little needles, however there was a comfort that came with the feeling. It made her drowsy.

Mary stopped alongside one of the stone pillars using it to let her slowly sink to the ground.

_'So, so sleepy. Why am I so sleepy?'_ Mary thought confused staring blankly at the wall. She let out a tired yawn completely involuntary. '_I'll just close my eyes for a second, then I'll head back to my chambers.'_

* * *

Sebastian bolted up right bring his back away from the stone wall. So fast it was as if he had been burned by the cold stone bricks. '_What in God's name?'_ He felt a prickling in his back. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it the prickling wasn't normal.

He couldn't explain what happened next. If someone were to ask him, he would have said it was like a sudden gust of cold wind that knocked the breath from his lungs. The walls of his cell seemed to fade into something entirely different. And the air instead of being the rotting mustiness of the castle dungeon was replaced with the crisp fresh sent of pine and wild flowers.

The last thing he remembered was falling to the ground thinking that it was going to be the cold hard bricks, but instead surprised to find it was velvety green grass.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Okay here is the prologue for Love takes hostages. The title of this story is taken from Neil Gaiman's quote at the beginning which is why I included it. There are probably a lot of question that are going to come up. I can tell you Mary, Lola, Francis, and Bash are perfectly fine as you will see in the next chapter.**

**Please review and tell me your thoughts on whether or not you want be to continue this story. I'll probably still continue it for my own amusement, but I still want to hear other's opinions on my writing. **

**_Please review_  
\/ **


	2. Chapter 1

**Love Takes Hostages  
Chapter One**

* * *

"Esme." The name was followed by three solid knocks.

She tried desperately to ignore the voice calling her name. The warm water of her bath was being too relaxing for her to bother with anything else. Esme didn't really want to talk either, even if it was with her brother. '_Maybe if I'm quite he'll just go away,'_ she hoped closing her eyes.

"Esme," Thomas called exasperated at his little sister for ignoring him. He gave up knocking on the thick mahogany door, instead just choosing to walk in.

"Thomas, can't you see I'm in a bath?" Esme groaned glaring at her older brother. '_So much for wistful thinking.'_ She sunk down a little more into the water, but otherwise made no move to cover herself. "What is so important that it couldn't wait?" She questioned resting her arm on the edge of the deep tub.

Thomas sat at the edge of her bed resting his arms behind his back, his brown orbs studying his sister seriously. "I think we should tell him," he told her firmly.

"Pardon?"

"He should know. We can't keep this from him forever, from them forever. Someone is going to find out," he explained worriedly running his fingers through his messy bronze hair. Esme noticed that it was slightly more unkempt than normal, meaning that he had been running his fingers through it a lot. It was obvious that the stress of this particular secret was getting to him. Then again Thomas had never been one for keeping secrets for long, especially secrets of the magnitude in which the both of them were keeping.

"And what do you suggest we do? We go to Henrik sit him down and tell him 'You know how you've always wanted to fall in love with the perfect girl? Well that's not going to happen. Unfortunately you're already engaged, to a girl from a prophecy that may or may not be arriving today.' Yeah, because that will go over well," Esme said sarcastically.

"And what do you suggest we do?" Thomas asked repeating her question. He knew she was right, they couldn't just come out of nowhere and tell them, but they also couldn't keep this from them for much longer.

Esme was quiet thinking it over her fingers skimming over the surface of her bath water. She knew that telling them too soon could cause some problems. She wasn't even sure when this prophesied girl would even show up. She only knew of the prophecy because of the dreams she had been having drawing her to a certain area of the library and once she had learned it she kept it to herself until Thomas noticed something was wrong, not letting it go until she told him.

"I propose we keep this to ourselves awhile longer until said girl does arrive and we see what happens. If they take an instant liking to one another we can tell them. It'll be more like an amusing anecdote that way," Esme advised. That seemed like the best course of action.

"And what if this girl wishes to go home? What do we say to her then?" Thomas prodded.

Esme sucked in her bottom lip, chewing on it while she thought. "We can assist her in finding a way home. Hopefully by the time we learn of a way to send her whence she came she won't choose to leave," she reasoned.

Thomas however had to contradict her reasoning, "And what if she still wishes to leave?"

"Then we burn that bridge when we come to it," she sighed. The bath water was getting cold now and she needed to get dressed. Esme looked at her brother with a somewhat self-conscious expression, "Thomas could you," she made a circular motion with her finger in the air.

Her brother blinked, before realizing that his sister was sitting in a bath. She was completely exposed, her golden blonde locks pulled up on top of her head, waiting for him to turn around. It hadn't really dawned on him before that moment how indecent it was to be talking to her in that condition. "Oh right," he mumbled turning around to face the wall.

"No worries," Esme assured him standing up out of the water and grabbing a towel to wrap around herself. She padded over to her wooden wardrobe and opened one of the drawers digging around for some clothes. She pulled out some black trousers, a white tunic that was mid sleeve, and a brown leather corset vest with ties in the front before walking across the room again to the dividing partition.

"Are you going somewhere today? One of the servants had told me you had asked to have your horse saddled," He turned around watching as a towel was flung up on the partition.

"I was going to go for a ride in the woods. I feel like I'm being drawn there for some reason," Esme answered slipping into the trousers and tossing the tunic over her head.

"And you're traveling alone? Are you sure that's wise; I mean to leave your guards? You are a queen after all dear sister. What if something were to happen?" Thomas overprotective brother mode was resurfacing again.

Esme sighed at her brother's concern. It wasn't as if she didn't like that he cared enough to be concerned, she did, however there were times when she wished that he cared slightly less. "Relax; I'm not going completely alone. I'll be taking Iorek with me. You don't need to be worried; I am more than capable of taking care of myself," she assured him that sisterly way she often would.

"I'm your brother it's my job to worry about you," Thomas retorted as Esme walked out from behind the partition tying the laces on the vest. She looked at him with and interesting expression boarding on annoyed and amused at the same time.

"You ever considered taking a day off then?"

"You would enjoy that wouldn't you?" He chuckled, standing up from the foot of the bed.

"It would certainly be less annoying," Esme shrugged. She reached up and released her hair from its bun on top her head letting the golden locks tumble down in flowing waves past her shoulders. She then reached for a hair brush by the wash basin and began to sweep the tangles out of her hair. After that was taken care off she began to braid pieces of her hair back away from her face.

Thomas watched as she continued through her daily morning routine, brushing her hair, putting on her shoes, before another thought occurred to him. "What do I tell our sister? She's going to know your gone when you don't show up to breakfast," he asked.

"Tell her what you wish," Esme said clasping her blue cloak over her shoulders, "There isn't much she can do before I come back. I'll deal with the consequences."

"When will you be back?"

"You should expect me by sunrise. There might be some surprise that I haven't anticipated," she answered with a smile before walking towards the door.

"Esme," Thomas called out stopping her at the door, "Is today that day?"

She paused, a solemn look flashing over her facial features, "I suspect that it might be."

* * *

It was hard to explain what had happened; even now he was trying to wrap his mind around it. One minute he had been surrounded by the stone walls of his bedchamber then the next he was a leaf swept up in a gust of wind and carried to this unforeseen place. It was all so very disorientating. So when Francis finally pried open his eyes he froze in shock.

There before him was one of the most picturesque sights he had ever witnessed. In fact he dared to say that no one had possibly seen anything so awe-inspiringly, breathtakingly, beautiful. Stretched out in the sky was the most glorious sunrise he had ever perceived. Brilliant vibrant gold's, soft pinks, dark purples, oranges mixing with blues, there were no words that he could think of to describe it. It reached out across the landscape, which was just as pleasing as the sunset it's self if not more so, tall mountains in the distance and a large vast forest with a river running along through it, cutting it apart like a sword. It was only after he emerged from his awestruck state that he started to realize where he was and it certainly wasn't his bedchambers.

_'How did I get here?'_ He began to sit up from where he was lying on the grass; it was the softest grass he had ever touched like silk between his fingertips. Francis ran is hand over the green patch of earth a few more times marveling at the feel. '_Grass doesn't feel like this in France. At least not the grass that I've seen.' _He paused alarmed, '_Grass doesn't feel like this in France.'_

Francis looked around in him in panic. '_If I'm not in France than where am I?'_ He had to take a double take when he noticed he wasn't the only person present here. '_Mary?'_ He turned to his right even more surprised to see his brother Sebastian and Mary's lady in waiting, Lola, sprawled on her back not far from him.

"Oh? You're awake."

Francis jumped at the sudden voice, just realizing the person sitting with her back a tree. She was situated in such away where her body was only half facing him and her knees were pulled up to her chest with a book in her lap or something of the sort. He was unable to comprehend her words for a second, seeing as they weren't French, but once his brain began to function he realized that she was English. She was staring at him curiously as he was sure he was her.

"Silly me your probably starving," she face palmed standing up and picking up a bag she had sitting by her riffling through it. She pulled out a shiny red apple about the size of his fist and handed it to him, "here take this."

He took the apple from her hand warily, unsure whether or not to trust this person. Francis studied the fruit looking for anything that might be off. The girl, young woman more like, seemed to read his mind and laughed amused, "Don't fret I didn't poison it. I don't particularly like wasting food."

Now he was feeling rather silly. This girl clearly had no intentions of harming him or anyone else. "Who are you?" He asked.

"My name is Esme Reynolds. You're a long way away from home I'm guessing?" she held out her hand as a friendly gesture. He took a minute to really study her face. Golden blonde hair, sea green eyes that reminded him very much of Sebastian's, she didn't look to be much older than he was, maybe just a few years at most.

"Francis Valios and yes, I think we might be," he answered watching her reaction. She showed no signs of knowing who he was. He found that incredibly strange. Even if he was in another country the Valios name was notorious. However before he could expand on that thought anymore there was a quiet groan from Sebastian.

They both watched as Sebastian sat up rubbing little circles in his temple, as if he were ailed with a headache or something of the sort. He moved languidly as he propped himself up and pried open his eyes. Francis didn't miss the look of befuddlement on his countenance.

"How's the face?" Esme queried her eyes glancing over the purplish bruises that marred his skin. Sebastian seemed taken aback by the question as if not realizing that she had been sitting there. He examined her carefully much like Francis had done before he answered.

"Its fine," he said gauging her reaction. She only plucked up her leather satchel and withdrew another red shiny apple before tossing it to him. Sebastian caught it looking at her curiously before glancing to Francis. They both shared a look of silent communication before Francis shrugged and took a bite out of his apple. Sebastian continued to look around noticing the peaceful sleeping faces of Mary and Lola before his eyes fell back on the strange girl that was still studying him with an expression of amusement and wonder. "How did I come to be here?" he questioned. Francis had been wondering the same thing and looked to Esme for an answer.

"I found you four passed out in the woods. You were all pretty out of it; you've been comatose for hours," she informed them simply. It was only really a half-truth, but neither of the young men was aware of this fact. Esme glanced at the two sleeping girls with a frown. "You're much heavier than you look," she commented softly drifting off into thought.

She had such an expression of mystification, that neither man dared bring her back from her inner musings. It was as if she were working out some sort of puzzle, fitting in the pieces one by one, but for the life of her cannot finish because she is missing more than one piece. '_It all so very peculiar,'_ thought Francis. He too was also working out a puzzle; however none of the pieces seemed to fit. This woman hadn't told them anything about why they were here, what had happened to them. Furthermore, it seemed to Francis that she was also holding back something, something important, like she was unsure how to go about explaining it.

* * *

_From far away she hails, a girl with noble blood._

Those words kept repeating themselves in Lola's unconscious mind as she slumbered peacefully. The darkness of her closed eyes embraced her like a comforting hug. She was vaguely aware of someone attempting to shake her awake; however her current state of serenity was doing little to aid them in this situation.

"I don't think it'll do much use," a voice spoke calmly. Lola didn't recognize the voice which probably should have alarmed her. It was a soft voice, feminine, with an accent that she could only place as English. _English,_ she sighed snuggling into the soft thing that she was sleeping on.

_From far away she hails, a girl with noble blood._

Lola knew that those words were important. That somehow they could answer what had happened. _From far away she hails. _There was only one meaning to that phrase, she lived far away. And a girl with noble blood was just what it sounded like a girl with noble blood. It was all so very puzzling, yet so simple. Lola had the strong sensation that those words pertained to her.

_'I do live far away, I from Scotland after all. I'm also of noble blood and a girl at that. But it's too vague, the girl with noble blood could be anyone,'_ she thought.

"Lola. Lola, wake up." She recognized that voice.

"Mary?" She croaked out confused. Sleep and those words were still heavily on her mind. She wasn't very much observing her surroundings and her eyes remained firmly closed too comfortable in confines of her bed to move. "What are you doing in my room?" She mumbled after a second thought.

Mary tarried looking around her at the unbelievably green grass, abundant trees, and blue morning sky, "You're not in your room Lola." Under any other circumstances this conversation would have been hilarious; Esme certainly seemed to think so as the girl was fighting a smile even now. Mary wasn't exactly so sure about her, seeing as she was obviously English and the English have never exactly been hospitable towards her, yet she seemed 'nice' and as she so clearly informed them, "If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now."

"What? No of course I am Mary," she grumbled groggily sitting up and rubbing her eyes, "Where else would I be?" She froze; her words abruptly cutting off becoming a distant memory as she took in her surroundings for the first time. '_Everything is so green.'_

"Lola—?"

"Who are you?" Lola blurted out pointing toward Esme.

Esme raised an eyebrow, curiously at being addressed as 'you'. It brought a strange sort of pleasantness with the word that someone of her position should be offended by, but she found it oddly comforting to not be referred to in such a formal way. "Esme," she answered with a smile, "Now if you have any more questions it would be best to save them for the road. We have a lot of walking to do."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hello Dear Readers. I've have posted Chapter 1 of Love Takes Hostages (LTH as I'm now dubbing it in my mind.) I wish to thank all of those who have review, followed, and Favorited. 7 reviews, 20-something followers, Gosh Thank You SO MUCH! I wasn't expecting the kind of response to my story. Originally this chapter was supposed to be longer, but alas my energy to write longer chapters has basically left me at the moment, that's not to say this story won't have long chapters. It probably will as things start picking up speed, this just seemed like a good place to end it. **

**As always reviews are always appreciated, you don't even have to be a member to review on my stories and there's no charge. Also as a special treat each person that signs a name to their review always gets a private message from yours truly about the chapter you reviewed on and little hints about the future chapters I am currently writing. **

**Oh if your still bothering to read this, I would not mind having a beta for this story or any of my stories. I currently am writing without any betas so if you think your up to the challenge. PM me and we'll get right on it. **


	3. Chapter 2

**Love Takes Hostages  
Chapter Two**

* * *

Sebastian found he was enjoying himself immensely as he trekked through the woods. This was funny, considering the fact that a part of him felt he should be on guard - seeing as he had only just met Esme Reynolds. There was a very possible chance she could be leading all of them into some trap, or perhaps had even been the one to kidnap them in the first place (his only plausible explanation for how he could have possibly ended up outside of the dungeon). However despite this he couldn't find it in himself to distrust her. The air seemed crisper here than in France, (it was definitely crisper than in the dungeon) and the trees seemed to move in unnatural ways when the cool summer breeze rustled their leaves; as if they were dancing, or perhaps sighing with pleasure.

He had always considered himself to be an excellent woodsman, all the way up until now apparently. You see Sebastian didn't know these woods; He knew nothing of the trees, the plants that grew there, or the animals than inhabited them. As he followed along he began to study the small plants that covered most of the forest floor, and realized that he didn't know even half of their names. "What's that plant there?" He asked, pointing to one of the many plants that he couldn't identify.

Esme stopped abruptly in her walking to glance where he was pointing, her horse stopping beside her. (A horse that had apparently been with her the entire time; the white Arabian was surprisingly tame, since she didn't have to tie it up and she didn't have to hold the reigns as she walked alongside it. Alcippe, as she had named him, only made his presence known when she had whistled for him upon beginning their journey) The plant in question resembled that of a white lily, except it grew like that of wild roses and the petals were deep blue with a vibrant orange in the region expanding out from the anthers, while the thorns that graced the stems of the plant were a deep red color. "That's Sapphire Sun," she informed them plainly, "Pretty, isn't it? It's completely harmless unless you cut your fingers on the thorns." She paused in her thoughts briefly, "the thorns being extremely poisonous and whatnot."

"I'll be sure to remember that," he remarked, sparing one last glance at the plant before the rest of the party resumed their walking again, following Esme's lead.

"So where are you lot from? Seeing as none of you are from around here… Blackmere, Flaviae or Tyrus maybe?" Esme inquired in curiosity.

It seemed in that moment that something dawned on the four of them. They didn't recognize any of those names, not a single one. Subconsciously they all knew they were no longer in France - that much was not hard to miss - but up until that moment they didn't realize how far away from their home they actually were. How far away is it when someone doesn't know basic geography? Mary was the first to recover from the revelation, "I'm afraid we don't know any of those places, but if you must know we're from France."

"France?" Esme stared at them inquisitively. Her face scrunched up in confusion as she tried to recall some scrap of information on where France was. '_France, France… France?'_ That word was a montage in her mind as she attempted to recall something from her past - seemingly her very distant past. "Oh? Oh! Of course," she exclaimed when realization dawned on her, "France. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner."

"Realize what?" Lola asked, puzzled by this other girl's antics.

"Mmmh? Oh it's nothing really, I was just thinking aloud," she assured them.

"So where are you from Esme?" Francis changed the subject. He was genuinely curious, but also he hoped that by asking her that question she might end up telling them where they were.

Esme had to think about that a little more. She very rarely thought about her past and when she did the thought was fleeting. Truth be told she didn't remember much of where she was from. It was oh so long ago that much of that knowledge was lost to the innermost workings of her mind. Suddenly she seemed to evoke something from memory; a voice: _"Alright children stay in line. Keep together. Be sure that all of you board the train."_

"I was born in London," she replied sheepishly, "though I haven't been back there in years, and I'm afraid I don't remember it much."

"So you're English?" Mary clarified.

"Technically yes, yet I'm not sure how much of an Englishman I am considering I don't know who the reigning monarch is," she said nonchalantly. This conversation wasn't really of much importance to her.

"Tudor," Sebastian told her.

Esme stared at him peculiarly, before absentmindedly replying "Interesting." She didn't show much interest in the topic, as the rest of them soon realized.

It was odd.

They all trekked on in silence for a moment before Esme made another attempt at conversation. It was during moments like this she wished she could just be a bit more naturally sociable. Her sisters were always so much better at this than she was.

"So what is France like?" She was genuinely interested.

"You want us to talk about France?" Mary asked.

"Unless you have some other topic you wish to discuss?" Esme replied.

"I can think of one," Lola muttered quietly. It wasn't as quiet as she intended however, because Esme was still able to hear her.

"Don't hold back on my account. Ask anything you like. I did say I would answer your questions," she assured the party calmly.

Lola looked a little unsure, but Esme's words seemed to instil some confidence in her to ask the question none of the others had gathered the audacity to ask before now. "Where are we?"

Esme's lips twitch up into a small smile for a split second before she composed herself. "Well you're certainly not in France, but if you must know your current location is Gevalia," she answered politely.

Of course none of them knew what Gevalia was. It was a place they had never heard of nor seen prior to that day. You see the country of Gevalia was not part of their world. In fact Gevalia was a country that many would believe to be of fairytales, someplace fictional that didn't exist. It would make no sense for any of them to believe otherwise.

"How is that even possible? We were in France not quite some eight hours ago," Sebastian was the one to ask the questions now.

"Call it what you will; Luck, magic, prophecy, divine intervention, it still doesn't change the fact that you're here," she said, just as indifferent as ever, the conversation not appearing to be bothering her in the slightest. However the truth was that Esme was growing increasingly more nervous. She was not used to being the center of attention, and she never liked it, preferring solitude.

Lola almost stopped short in her tracks, '_Divine intervention?'_

"Prophecy? You really believe in that superstition?" Francis questioned, bothered by Esme's speculations. It seemed like he would never be able to meet someone who didn't believe in this heresy. Nostradamus's prophecy of his death came to mind and he fought the urge to scowl bitterly. Beside him both Sebastian and Mary fell back with looks of equal measure of discomfort and guilt - even Lola winced at his words, knowing the meaning behind them.

Esme was oblivious to the brusque tension Francis's question had brought about. She pondered on his question about prophecies; after all, wasn't that why she was in these woods to begin with? A prophecy about her brother marrying a noble girl from a distant world led her into the woods, and now she meets four strangers from a world that she and her siblings originated from. It was just too much of a coincidence. '_It was also a prophecy that brought us here to begin with_,' she reminded herself.

"I've never thought superstition and prophecies to be the same thing. Like superstition and ignorance has always come hand in hand, contrarily prophecies are the opposite of that. They are a manifestation of a person's dreams, thoughts and fears of the unknown for the future," she breathed contentedly, still deeply entrenched in thought. '_Yes, I do believe in prophecy - I'd be a fool not to.'_ Esme didn't say these last words out loud, but they were still implied in her way of speech and choice of words.

"That's profound," Sebastian said with a look of awe.

He wasn't the only one. Francis was right-out staring at her with piqued interest, his bitterness long forgotten. He had never really thought about what prophecy and superstition was to him; they had always seemed one and the same. There was nothing separating them, until now.

"Thank you," Esme smiled, "Though I can't take credit for those words as I read them somewhere. But back to the original question - yes, I do believe in prophecies. After all it isn't much of a stretch, to believe in God is to believe in prophecy is it not? Unless you don't believe in God, that is."

"We're Catholics," Lola assured her.

"Oh, I'm not," she told them. Her bluntness both amused and unnerved them.

"You're not?" Mary stumbled over her words. She had grown up in a convent, surrounded by nuns teaching her that Catholicism was the one true religion. And here was a young woman who was openly admitting to four Catholics that she herself wasn't Catholic.

"Nope. I mean no offence to you or anything, if you're Catholics that's great, it's your choice. It's just the idea that a man is able to dictate the will of God has never been able to sit well with me, and his funny hat makes it hard to take his words seriously," she explained as gently as she could.

"His funny hat?" Sebastian fought the urge to laugh at the colorful expression.

Esme nodded, "It's ridiculous."

"So you're Protestant?" Lola asked.

"No, I don't belong to any religion. At least no religion any of you are aware of. It's more of a state of mind," she clarified.

"A state of mind?"

"In which one believes in a God and the conventions to which he espouses," Esme added, "It's the basis of any religion. There isn't that much of a difference, except that I don't let other people dictate what I should believe."

Silence descended upon them again as each one thought over the girl's words. It seemed to them that she was much wiser than they had first perceived. Very much wiser actually. While all of them were Catholics who should've been unsettled by her blatant denouncing of Catholicism and the authority of the Pope, they weren't as opposed to her opinion as they should be. What she had just told them was all in all very logical, and obviously she wasn't a Pagan or she would have strung them up from the nearest tree and bled them out from their throats.

"Do you think a prophecy can be changed?" Mary asked tersely. She didn't know what she was expecting to hear from the other girl. Maybe something to give her hope that the future Nostradamus saw for Francis wouldn't come to pass. Mary caught Francis staring at her with a look of yearning that mirrored that of her own heart. She kept eye contact for a moment before brusquely turning her head, focusing on Esme instead.

Esme quickly grasped the severity of the situation, as it was such a loaded question. "Do you know something you'd rather not?"

"More or less," she sighed.

"I'm afraid I can't say. I'm no seer. However there is a point where prophecy morphs into superstition - when fear begins to rule over logic," she said looking up at the impossibly blue sky through the branches overhead, "Fear is a normal part of life, but bravery isn't the absence of fear, it is the will to conquer it. You just need to remember what is important to you. Not the big things - the little things. Then everything should work itself out."

"What kind of little things?" Mary inquired, confused. She knew what was important to her; Francis, Scotland, her people… nevertheless that didn't seem to be what Esme was telling her to focus on.

"They're simple questions really – they just have profound answers. For example quality or quantity, which is more important to you? If you were given a choice between 5 stale pastries and one fresh one, which would you choose?" She propositioned to Mary.

"I guess the fresh pastry," she answered hesitantly.

"Okay, then take that a step further. Let's say you were given a choice between immortality and living for fifteen years, but your immortality had to be spent in one room whereas your fifteen years could be spent anywhere. Which would you choose?" This expanded her question to a much deeper realm, and it hit a lot closer to home for all of them.

Mary was unable to answer.

"Which would you choose?" Francis asked.

Esme didn't need to think about that question, as she had already figured out the answer years ago. "The fifteen years. Quality over quantity," she explained. The funny thing is that the topic of discussion was her main argument against her sister when she began lecturing her about throwing herself into danger. And it was this argument that caused her eldest sister to get flustered and angry, utterly unable to utter even a single word in response.

"Can you have anything in the room with you?" asked Mary.

"Anything you wish, but you have to stay in the room."

"I suppose its quality over quantity then," Mary concluded. This realization brought about a sense of peace to her inner turmoil. Quality over quantity. That's what she was giving up with Francis, the quality of her life for the quantity of his years. Mary wasn't sure if Esme was asking these questions on purpose. Chances were that she wasn't, but nevertheless they stirred something in her.

"Do you have another question?" Lola asked, interrupting the tense silence as she was ready for something to distract everyone from the previous question.

"I suppose I can think of another," Esme considered, thinking it over. It took only a few seconds before one popped into her head, "Wealth or happiness?"

"Happiness," Francis blurted out without a second thought.

"Family or obligation?" Esme countered back just as quickly.

It didn't take long before Sebastian, Francis, Lola, and Mary answered, "Family."

"Security or adventure?"

That question was split down the middle. The girls of course were favoring security, while Sebastian and Francis were favoring adventure. Esme was the tie breaker when she said that she'd put adventure above security. This game continued on for nearly an hour before the group decided to take a rest by a large creek to get some water and rest their feet.

"Oh, there's more food and water in the saddle bag, so you're all welcome to help yourselves," Esme told them while sitting down on the grassy bank by the water. Alcippe stood off to the side nibbling on some grass. He didn't mind the strangers; in fact if Esme didn't know better she would say that he had taken a shine to them.

"You're not hungry Sebastian?" Esme asked, watching some flower petals float downstream. She didn't look up to see who had taken a seat next to her. She didn't need to.

"You can call me Bash," he told her, "most people do."

"And most people call me difficult," she retorted.

"Is that so? Why would they ever say that?" He questioned, his voice picking up a teasing tone.

"Because it's true," she answered, "I am difficult. Not now of course, this is me being nice."

"And what pray tell are you like when you're not being nice?" Sebastian asked, thoroughly amused.

Esme's face became sombre, "Difficult." She smiled and Sebastian chuckled. Esme glanced over her shoulder at Francis and Lola who had taken seats next to each other. Mary was standing over by Alcippe threading her fingers through his mane. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but there seems to be some underlying tension between you three," she observed, pointedly watching Mary.

"You're not mistaken," he disclosed.

"So is it safe to assume that this tension has everything to do with Mary and is the main cause of those impressive bruises?" she added, turning her eyes to him.

Sebastian looked away from her unwavering gaze. There was something about her eyes that both interested and unnerved him. It was as if she was seeing through his every disguise, his every wall that he had put up around himself. "It's not an entirely unreasonable assumption," he murmured.

Esme looked away from his face, much to Sebastian's relief. "I know this isn't any of my business, so I'm not going to pry. But all of you answered family over obligation and it's clear that you consider those two your family. I know first-hand what it's like to distance oneself from family, and even though I have only just met you I would hate to see you end up bitter and alone." She soberly advised him.

"It will be impossible to repair the damage," Sebastian sighed remorsefully. He wished it was just as simple as apologizing, but he knew that no apology could ever cover what he had done. It was bad enough that he would be taking Francis' birth right and one true love, and yet that might have still been forgivable if he had not also fallen for the same girl that his brother loved. He had committed the ultimate betrayal in doing that, and he knew that he had no right to ask for forgiveness.

"Nothing is impossible, Bash. Improbable maybe, but never impossible," said Esme, "Time heals all wounds. Some wounds just take more time to heal than others."

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but whatever words were going to leave his lips never made it out into the open air. A loud screech drew them out from their tête-à-tête. It was a girlish scream and it didn't even take but a second to figure out that the sound had erupted from Mary. It was astounding how quickly Francis had reacted to that sound, putting himself in-between the young queen and the horse. Of course it wasn't the horse that had caused this exclamation of fear from Mary - in fact the said horse neglected even reacting to her scream, and instead just raised his head and looked at the girl blankly while he chewed his cud. After doing something similar to that of a shrug, the horse returned his attention back to the sweet grass. Their conversation was easily heard by the others as they approached.

"Mary what is it, what's wrong?" Francis asked, worriedly glancing back and forth between her and the horse. Try as he might to distance himself from her the second she proved to be in any sort of danger he couldn't stop himself from throwing himself in-between her and the possible threat.

Mary's eyes flickered over Francis face. "There's a rat in the saddle bag," she breathed, disturbed.

"Oh no, I forgot about Iorek," Esme groaned, stopping a little behind Sebastian. He turned around to look at her curiously, '_Iorek?'_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Here's Chapter 2 of LTH. I wish to take a moment to thank my Beta, Jstarfully, for editing this chapter and correcting those little pesky mistakes that I didn't quite catch. I've gotten over a thousand views on this story so far. Just incredible the response from you guys. And to those of you who have reviewed, followed, or Favorited, I give you thanks. Keep reading. And if you have any suggestions leave them in the reviews.**

**Some interesting questions to answer:**

**Quality or Quantity? Wealth or Happiness? Family or Obligation? Adventure or Security? Love or Fear? Freedom or Death?**

**What do you think is more important/stronger? Leave your answers in the reviews. I curious to see what you guys pick. **


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